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“Goddammit, Lancelot , she told you. She told you - if you waited any longer to put it in the oven, there wouldn’t be time for the frosting to set, and now look...you've gotten yourself eliminated...” Merlin shouted at the television, hands flying in the air. “Arthur, didn’t she tell him that?” He continued, waiting for a familiar response of “I still can’t believe Gwen put him up to this,” or “I didn’t even know he could bake…”
No response.
“Arthur?” He asked again. Nothing. It wasn’t until now that Merlin realized why his flatmate wasn’t answering. He was fast asleep. Mouth open, back slumped, neck hanging at what looked like a very uncomfortable
angle, snoring and drooling next to him on the couch.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Wow, because lying around watching fencing competitions all day really takes it out of you.” He sighed, trying to adjust Arthur’s position - the neck thing was starting to weird him out. “To be fair I did finally get you to do your own laundry,” he mumbled on, then “ - oh. And now you're on my shoulder. Alright. ” And squishing my arm.
So, he did the only thing he could do and sat there, Arthur a dead weight against him, for as long as he could. Until it physically hurt. “Sorry, Your Annoyingness, but you're cutting off my circulation.” He carefully - and awkwardly - wiggled his quickly numbing appendage out from under Arthur’s body, silently cursing to himself that he didn’t wake the sleeping King. That could get awkward. Especially considering the only comfortable place Merlin could find to put his arm was wrapped around Arthur’s shoulders. He’d merely meant to move him a little, not...this. An odd feeling churned in his stomach. Why did this...why did this kind of feel...nice? He shrugged and turned off the TV. The episode was over and neither of them were really watching anyways. He pulled the blanket he was hogging further over Arthur, forehead acquiring a soft crinkle, and watched him sleep.
Arthur looked so serene in sleep - he always had - with his eyelashes gently fluttering and his breath steady but shaking. Like an unstable but reliable boat rocking on the sea. Merlin smiled. This was nice. Nice and… Natural . A different feeling worked its way through his belly. Warmer, sharper, not bad necessarily, just...uncomfortable. Almost too natural, he reflected, and inched a little away from the man sleeping beside him. From Arthur, sleeping beside him , sleeping on top of him, practically sleeping in his arms . His stomach churned again. Or was it fluttered?
Arthur looked like a child, almost. Like a child that hadn’t yet seen all the chaos, tragedy, and horror of the world. Almost. (A jagged breath rose in Merlin’s chest. Please don’t let me lose you again… ) He had the tiniest smile on his face, and a few freckles had popped up next to his nose from time spent outside teaching Gwaine, Lancelot, Leon and the other reincarnated knights new sword tricks on every spare summer day. Their neighbors found it rather peculiar, understandably, but Merlin didn’t mind. The group was fun to watch, in all their rowdy, sweaty, rambunctious glory. Sometimes one of them would take off his shirt and well...who was Merlin to complain? He’d caught Gwen staring at the swordsmen herself one day, and found himself wondering if she was staring at Lancelot or Arthur. He also found himself hoping it was Lancelot.
He had a sneaking suspicion why, but he never let himself entertain it. (Okay, perhaps a few times). Still, It- it wasn’t his place. Until now that is, as Arthur lay upon his shoulder, sleeping deeply without a care in the world, and Merlin started to let his own slip away. What would it be like? To be with Arthur? Not just to live with him but be with him? Well, it would probably be a lot like...this. Without its owner even noticing, Merlin's hand found its way into Arthur’s messy blond hair. He wouldn’t mind, would he? He totally would. Merlin didn’t care.
His hair was surprisingly soft and smooth - thank goodness for the advent of shampoo. Cool to the touch, but not cold. Much like Arthur himself. A soft smile grew across Merlin’s lips. This felt natural alright. It felt...right.
He closed his eyes, and let his whole world become Arthur. Warm and heavy against his chest, soft beneath his fingers...free on his mind. Perhaps these feelings were new. Perhaps they had been there all along. Perhaps I love you.
His fingers moved even deeper into the silky blond hair; deeper, deeper, until they met scalp. Something inside him burst alive, something electric and so so right, a glowing warmth he had long suppressed exploding from his fingertips and pulsing through his veins, not stopping until it lit his heart on fire. Could you ever love me the same?
Merlin let out a way too audible sigh. “What are you doing…” said a sleepy voice. Shit shit shit shit abort abort abort!!! Merlin jerked away, hands flying up in the air. “You better have an answer for this, Merlin,” Arthur said with a pout, rising up and pulling away just as pointedly. He’d try and find one, but… he couldn’t stop noticing the way Arthur’s hair swept into his eyes, the gentle age lines just starting to appear under them and next to his mouth, the light filtering in and turning his eyes the color of moonlight... Had-had he always looked this good after waking up? Thinking back, Merlin realized he had. He had just never allowed himself to notice it. Arthur let out a dramatic yawn, and Merlin let his arms fall across his chest, a smirk falling across his face. “Sorry. Your hair looked irresistibly fluffy and I just had to mess it up.”
Arthur’s pout turned into a scowl, and he lunged, eyes blazing. “I'll show you messy hair!”
Merlin dove backwards, eyes squeezed shut but mouth wide open in a grin, until his back collided with upholstery and he was lying flat on the couch. Arthur lunged, but Merlin dove backwards... and so Arthur did the only thing he could. He fell right on top of him.
Okay okay okayyyy this is normal everything’s calm arighhhht... Arthur’s blazing eyes widened, then narrowed, then softened, but blazed still the same. His eyebrows twisted, and he swallowed, a deep breath pushing his chest even further into Merlin’s. “I just...I just want to try something…tell me to stop if you don't like it,” he said, voice hushed, and then leaned in.
Arthur leaned in. But Merlin leaned back. For now, it was his turn to ask “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Preparing to give me a noogie and a sore head?” Merlin said though his teeth, shoulders rising in a shrug.
Arthur’s eyes changed once again. Changed but blazed still the same. “Shut up and let me kiss you…”
“Ok”
Arthur pulled away, laughing. “I said shut up.”
Once again, Merlin’s hands acted for him. They grabbed the collar of Arthur’s sweatshirt and pulled it, and the man inside it, down to meet their owners lips. Arthur tensed up in Merlin’s arms. He hadn’t expected it either. But, not more than a second later, he softened, and kissed Merlin back like it was the only thing he had ever known. And Merlin kissed him back. Like it was all he had ever wanted. Maybe it was.
“Clotpole,” he whispered when they broke apart.
“Your clotpole.”
Merlin grinned. “Still.”
“ Could you ever love me the same?” Perhaps you already do.